Along the Way

We spent the evening laughing at the punchlines of Fresh Prince and sorting through the massive quantities of Dahlia's premature holiday spirit.
She had a certain military precision with how she distributed the items, as though each portion had to be exactly accounted for. I caught myself admiring her stern face as she neatly folded a hoodie into one of the bags.
"You're slacking off." She pointed out in a sing song manner.
It made me wonder about her childhood. Just then I realized I knew as little about her as she did about me. Her family was wealthy, but how did they make their killing? She has yet to mention a fond memory of her mother or father. Everything she's told me has been strictly factual.
"What are your parents like?" I asked out of the blue.

I could tell I had caught her off gaurd. She tried shrugging it off. "I've told you, remember?"

My attention was turned to her body language. She seemed to shrink into herself, almost physically trying to avoid the subject. Her busy motions of folding the clothes continued in a progressed manner.
"No, I mean what are they like besides what you've mentioned?"

"They're fine." She stated, again no emotion attached to the ones who raised her.

I began to pry. "Come on, Dahlia. They had to of done something right, look at you. You're giving all this away without a second thought."

"It's really much easier to give than to take. People convince themselves its the other way around, but they're only chasing their own tail. Nobody will ever have enough."

Sometimes it scared me. The way she seemed wise beyond her years. I swear she can make anything fit into the form of poetry.
I considered what she said for awhile, our small talk had given way to background noise of Will Smith rapping the intro of yet another Bel air episode.

"Thats what he's like, isn't it? Your father. He'll never have enough and you're scared to death of ending up like him. Thats what you meant when you said you get personal gain from this. It reminds you that you aren't your father."
It was a bold statement, in alot of ways the same thing applied to me. It occured to me that even though Dahlia and I had grown up in seperate worlds, we were both fighting the same fear. The same fire breathing demon that snagged our coat tails as we tried running from the past.

I could tell from her vacant stare that this wasn't all of her story, but I was on the right path. Someday soon she'd trust me with the details. Tonight, though, I let my revelation dissolve into the air and I changed the subject.

Anything to get that haunting expression from her delicate face.

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That night we filled over fifty backpacks with necessities. Dahlia said we'd pass them out soon. Maybe the following sunday, when the homeless were most active. Scurrying about from bin to bin, hoping to come across anything of use. I remember those days easily, and I am humbled at the fact that any one of them might have very possibly been me. My knowledge of the streets will help us map out the alleys to hit. The overpasses and the abandoned warehouses. I may run into old friends.

"I don't want some of them to see me like this." I admitted to Dahlia as we hatched our plans for the route.

"Like what?" She asked innocently.

"All cleaned up. Well fed. It will discourage a few."

This seemed to trouble her.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, Lia.. I can't express in words how thankful I am to you.. But sometimes the concrete makes you as cold as itself. It's always easy to be bitter, you know?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and I hoped to God she wasen't regretting whatever whim made her choose me. For a split second I could relate to a puppy in a pound full of whimpering dogs. I couldn't shake the feeling that had I been a bit older, a bit scruffier, Dahlia would have walked past me that day.

I did not voice this concern.

"They won't recognize you, Shane. You've changed so much since then. Hopefully they will appreciate the supplies too much to think of their situations. Just make sure you look everyone in the eye and smile for real. Sometimes that's all anyone needs."
Another pearl of wisdom.
I left my half molded fear in the back of my mind as I mused myself with the thought of the fortune cookies Dahlia could come up with. Always something that would leave any scrooge in high spirits.
This came to be one of my favorite things about her.

After we set the motions of our plan into action, we had a coacoa break. I am not afriad to admit that I had extra marshmellows and even swiped a few of Lia's while she was reading. She did catch me red handed on my second try, which turned into a full fledged pillow fight to the death.
The girl is barbaric when it comes to her marshmellows, of which I learned the hard way.

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"Would you like to go running with me tomorrow morning?" She asked me the next day, as she took a bite of the salad in front of her.

I smirked. "Running and morning.. I cringe at the idea."

She shook her head and laughed softly "That's because you have a boy metabolism and a boy habit of laziness."

"You're such a sexist, Lia!" I joked, tossing her napkin into her rabbit food.

"You can't argue with the facts, BOY." She mused on.

"Normal people sleep in, GIRL. They also eat burgers."

She rolled her eyes dramatically and retrieved her napkin from the bowl of lettuce, wadding it up and pitching it to my forehead.
I laughed. "Ew. Girl germs."

"Go fix my car or something!" She went on.

"I'll need a sandwhich first."
And with that she showed me that she knew how to tackle.
Crazy females.